


Meaningful Conversation

by RurouniHime



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon, Commitment, Confessions, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, From Sex to Love, HP: EWE, Jealousy, M/M, Talking During Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-27
Updated: 2011-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RurouniHime/pseuds/RurouniHime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The best conversations happen at the oddest times. Harry Potter returns to London and finds Draco Malfoy there, ready to pick up where they left off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meaningful Conversation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Littlearsonist](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Littlearsonist).



It seemed a stroke of weird humor that when Harry Potter finally pulled himself free of his self-imposed isolation from Wizarding society, it was to find that Draco Malfoy, very blond and not entirely blue-eyed, was also attending Minerva McGonagall's memorial celebration.

Harry had a hard time reconciling the tall cultured man before him with the spindly stick of still-growing-boy he'd screwed around with during the war. The arrogance seemed to have departed, though watching Draco converse complete with narrowed eyes and patient smirk, Harry had a feeling he needed to give that a bit more time to be certain. Draco Malfoy had not only reached a final height; he had filled out his frame as well, with firmer muscles and graceful sinews. And that self-sustaining thread had tightened, grown stronger. The man carried himself afloat in his own sea, making the currents his alone to ride.

There was chatter, both the comfortable sort with acquaintances, and the embarrassed exchanges with old once-friends one didn't know how to connect with anymore. And there was Hermione Granger, leaving Harry to join her husband out on the dance floor. He was a tallish redheaded wizard straight from Surrey. It didn't take Harry long to suspect his old friend of trying to compensate for the other tallish redhead who was not present at the memorial, having only just begun his honeymoon with his American wife in New Orleans' wizarding quarter. But Hermione looked happy, and her absence did allow the blond former king of Slytherin House to bump into Harry in the corner farthest from the dancing.

There wasn't even a hello. Just a gradual entry into conversation, as if they'd only left off on the same topic an hour ago. In reality it had been near on six years. But Harry felt at ease, his comfort rolling across him in the smooth tones of Draco Malfoy's voice. And it was there he remained for the rest of the night, until there was mention of a fine bottle of port at Draco's flat, and the swift agreement that Minerva McGonagall would have strangled herself out of boredom had she attended her own memorial party. Harry did not find it odd to be Apparating back to his old lover's flat only two hours after meeting again. For Draco, as it turned out, had not only a fine bottle of port from the Tuscan countryside, but also a quaint stash of Lobelia Lewisham's Finest Firewhiskey.

Harry relaxed on the cream-coloured couch and savored the taste of the latter beverage, licking the burn from his lips down into his throat where it did its best work.

Sitting across from him on a matching reclining chair, Draco smiled faintly. "Well. I'd wondered."

Harry looked at him. "What?"

The blond gestured with one long finger at Harry's glass of firewhiskey. "If you still drank that."

Harry turned his attention to the amber liquid. He held the tumbler up before his eyes to catch the light. "Well, I do drink it. But not in the quantities I used to."

Draco watched him, swirling his own glass between two fingers. "They've developed a new flavor. Can't stand the stuff myself. Pineapple should not be mixed with alcohol."

"Sounds appalling."

Draco studied his fire whiskey. "So. Perth."

Harry smirked. "Perth."

"Why Perth?"

"Not sure, exactly." Harry shrugged. "I've always liked Scotland. I would have gone further north if I'd had my way. Inverness. Or thereabouts."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What's stopping you?"

Harry smiled dryly. "Tell me when you figure that out."

"Give me a day or two. Only fair. But honestly, I think you just don't like being that cold all the time."

Harry looked away at the couch, fingering the fringe on one of the pillows. He grinned. "It's cold up north."

Draco took a sip. "What are the odds of me getting you into my bed tonight?"

Harry raised his head and met the blond's gaze. "I'd say they're worth betting on."

Draco smiled. He set his glass down on the elegant oak coffee table before him and rose from his chair. Harry downed the rest of his drink and joined him. He followed Draco down a long hall into what could only be his bedroom. Draco moved across the room, unbuttoning his dress shirt as he went, and Harry leaned in the doorway watching. When Draco had reached the last three buttons, Harry stepped forward. "Stop."

Draco paused and turned to face him. "Sorry?"

"Nothing." Harry smiled. He looked Draco up and down, lingering on the man's hands, poised over the third button from the bottom. "I've just always liked the look of a button-down shirt half undone."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

"Makes you look interrupted, like you're anxious to be touched. Like maybe you already have been, and it wasn't enough."

Draco grinned. He finished with the buttons and took off his shirt, turning to reveal pale shoulders and a narrow, muscled back. "Oh, it's never enough. I'd let you finish it and all, but I really am in the mood to be touched." He sidled around the bed and took Harry's elbow, guiding him away from the door.

Somehow Harry ended up on his back on Draco Malfoy's bed with the blond pressed against him, sucking one of his nipples. From the heat at his throat, Harry suspected he already had a few well-developed hickeys in various places. And his trousers were off. All in a few moments. Harry grinned; Malfoy was quick. He certainly hadn't lost that.

Draco pulled himself up and grappled for something out of Harry's line of sight. _"Sanctorius Totalus."_

Harry inhaled as a slow trickly warmth flowed out from his groin, stretching up through his torso and out into every limb. He shifted on the mattress, blinking. "That's not the one you used to use."

Draco clucked his tongue. "That protection spell belonged in the Dark Ages. They've improved it. You only need to cast this one about once a month. And it has its own rewards, if you're feeling what I think you're feeling."

Harry nodded dreamily. "Oh, yes. And you're sure it handles everything?"

Draco set his wand aside and touched Harry's cheek. "Would you just trust me on this one?"

Harry thought about it for a second, but found there was really very little he was worried about. He nodded. "I figure if you wanted to kill me, there are other easier ways to go about it than sacrificing your perfect body to some disease."

Draco grinned, a white flash of teeth. "Your wit's sharper, that's for certain."

He fingered his wand again and cast a second spell in the vicinity of Harry's abdomen, making him gasp.

"What, still don't like using your fingers?" Harry said, trying to catch up with his breath.

Draco hummed. "Not sanitary. I never touch down there. With my fingers, that is."

Harry snorted. "You know how hypocritical that sounds?"

Draco flashed him a lascivious leer. "We'll get to that soon enough, Potter. Right now, I think it's in our best interests if I do this instead."

He entered Harry's body with strangely familiar ease. Harry shut his eyes and grabbed Draco's forearms. Even with the preparatory spell, it was tight.

Draco's voice floated through the conflicting sensations. "What made you decide to come back?"

Harry twisted, dug his toes into the mattress, and found he liked the clean, sweet smell of Draco's sheets. He opened his eyes. "I like trains. Wanted an excuse."

Draco's brow furrowed. He glided his hands up over Harry's sides, massaging at his chest and nipples. He dipped his head to lick a moist path up the center of Harry's chest, and nodded once, looking thoughtful. "Train fares alright?"

"Exorbitant. As usual." Harry found Draco's wrists and began searching out the contours of bone and muscle there, stroking over the backs of the blond's hands. Draco caught one hand and pulled it to his lips, gracing the heel of Harry's palm with a fleeting kiss.

"Sounds like my price. You alright?" he asked.

"Yes."

Draco's hand found the underside of his thigh and gripped him firmly for an instant before taking his length in hand. Harry arched and Draco took the opportunity to move, easing them into a rhythm.

"I haven't ridden that train in years," Draco said.

Harry flung an arm around the blond's neck and brought their foreheads together. "It's a nice route. Mountains are pretty."

"Maybe I'll come see your Perth in the near future then."

Harry let his eyes close, pushing his hips against Draco's as closely as he could manage. His nails were probably digging into Draco's wrist, but worrying about that was not at the top of his priorities. "Not a bad city. But I don't live there anymore."

Draco cocked his head at him, but did not slow their motion. The man always had been good at multi-tasking. "Where _do_ you live then?"

"Don't really live anywhere," Harry gasped. "I was tired of fitting in. In a city. So I'm homeless once again. Staying with Hermione."

Draco nodded. "Bet it feels good."

"What feels good?"

"Not conforming. You make a good drifter." Draco straightened. He pulled Harry flat on his back, off the pillows, and leaned over him, driving hard at a slightly upward angle. "You still like that?"

Harry nearly bit through his tongue. He wrapped his fingers around the sides of the headboard. "Fuck, _yes_."

The blond gave a self-satisfied nod that Harry recognized. That half-smirk. So maddening. And then Draco was stroking him and he was coming.

* * *

It became something of a pattern for Harry. Not every night. Even he couldn't come up with a real reason to fall into Draco Malfoy's bed seven times a week. But he'd discovered that what was once true was still true: Draco Malfoy was an astonishingly good shag. And Harry'd had time - five years - to learn that what they'd done during seventh year, in dusty nooks and crannies of Hogwarts when no one was looking, was nothing to get excited about. At least not in the beginning. But it seemed that practice made perfect in all things, and it also seemed that Draco's learning curve in this particular area had continued to improve over those five-plus years.

What got Harry the most was that Draco _remembered_ how to touch him. Sensations Harry himself had forgotten surged to life under Draco's fingers. Apparently Harry couldn't remember half of his erogenous zones on his own, and he was suddenly reminded forcefully of their existence. Small details, things one wouldn't immediately place into the sex category, especially when they were happening without actual penetration. Harry's throat, for instance. He'd forgotten the spot just above his collarbone, how it sent tingles rippling up his spine and into his shoulders at the barest touch.

But Draco remembered.

The second time Harry found his way into Draco Malfoy's bed, the owner of that bed made good use of Harry's hidden spot. He even talked against the skin there, which jolted Harry with all sorts of new sensations, not the least of which was the sound of Draco's voice.

The man breathed out through his nose and murmured into Harry's shoulder, fingers flicking open button after button on his shirt. "Wait, I think I'm a bit confused. You admit to hating the wizarding world, yes?"

Harry nodded, twitching at the spider-like flutter of Draco's fingers against his ribs. "Hate's a strong word. But I don't like it much."

Draco looked at him briefly. "So you come back to it? What's the point?"

"Would you believe I missed it?" Harry raised a hand to rub his face. "I missed it. Amazing."

Draco went back to tonguing his throat, dipping his head and turning Harry's face to reach the skin behind his ear. "So you were too long out of the limelight, then."

"Yes… No. I mean, I was, but I didn't miss that. I missed… oh, I don't know what I missed."

Draco shrugged lightly, still intent on Harry's ear. He slid his hands over the fabric of his shirt, pushing it down over Harry's shoulders. "Didn't you miss all the attention?"

Harry frowned and rolled Draco so the blond was beneath him. "No. I didn't miss that. I hated that."

"Oh, come off it. You didn't hate that. You say you did, maybe you even think you did, but you liked being the savior. You always did, from the moment you found out about it." Draco's eyes were hard. He clutched at the back of Harry's neck with his nails and ran a slow cunning finger down his jaw. "You liked being more important than the rest of us."

Harry froze, caught in Draco's narrowed glare. Fury welled up in him: that Draco had said those things, that Draco thought that way about him, that _anybody_ saw him in that light. He shoved the other man away and got off the bed, jerking his shirt back over his shoulders.

Draco rose on his elbows, bare chest damp with sweat. His voice was flat and unforgiving. "You liked being in control, Potter. You liked the power you suddenly had."

Harry didn't know where to begin with all Draco had said. He wanted to argue it, fight what he knew was wrong with the statement, but it was all so muddled up together.

"Fuck off," was all he said.

Harry stalked out of the room, feeling very off-kilter. Draco's voice echoed from the bedroom.

"I saw you during the war, Harry. I was there."

Harry yanked his coat off the rack as he passed. He made it halfway into his jacket and had the front door open before he stopped. Draco's words battered around in his head, echoing over themselves.

With a sigh, Harry shut the door and leaned against the wall next to the coat rack. He hadn't been around wizards for five years. And he hadn't been around Draco Malfoy for a year longer than that. Both would take some getting used to, and he'd been a fool to pretend either situation would be easy to handle again.

Was he _supposed_ to get used to either situation, though?

Harry made his way back to Draco's bedroom. The blond was leaning on his arms in bed, legs stretched out in front of him. He looked up as Harry entered and his eyes widened slightly.

Harry dropped his jacket on the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed, his back to the other man.

"I did like the power. I liked being in control of things. For once. It wasn't really having control over my own life, but it seemed like it was. No one to answer to. People looked to me to get things moving, in the way _I_ wanted to do it for once."

He looked at his hands. Then he glanced back and caught Draco's eye. "But I didn't want to be more important. And I didn't _like_ feeling that way."

Draco looked at him for a moment, then crawled across the bed to his side. "I know," he said softly.

Harry gave a curt nod. He felt Draco's hands on his shoulders, rubbing lightly. After a moment, Draco began to kiss him, leisurely presses of lips on Harry's neck and shoulders. He pulled Harry's shirt down over his arms again and guided him onto his back on the bed. Harry watched Draco's hands massage his chest and move down to unfasten his trousers.

"You know, I could ask you the same thing," Harry said.

Draco did not pause, but tapped Harry's waist with his forefingers. Harry lifted his hips and Draco pulled his trousers down a foot. Harry went on, his gaze fixed on the other man. "When did you finally stop being so involved with yourself?"

Draco huffed out a breath and took Harry in one hand. "And who says I _have_ stopped?"

"Hermione."

"Granger?" Draco halted his movement and sat back a little, eyeing Harry in a patronizing manner. "We're going to talk about Granger?"

"Well, have you changed?"

"So we're going to talk about me now."

"You were fine with talking about _me_ a second ago."

Draco's smile was crooked. He stroked Harry's length, pressing firmly with his fingertips. Harry tried to force himself to relax, but the other man seemed intent upon keeping him from that goal. Draco bent and kissed the tip of Harry's erection. "I don't think I've changed so much. Pretty much everything I do is still for me."

"This isn't," Harry ground out. He could already feel himself rising. Draco's eyes flicked up to meet Harry's and he raised one eyebrow.

"Oh?"

Harry frowned and collapsed back onto the bed. Draco bent his right knee and settled it over his arm. He reached his free hand lazily around to massage Harry's bare hip. Harry made a fist and dug his fingernails into his palm to slow the onrush of pleasure.

Draco appraised him shrewdly. "Well. You certainly have more stamina these days."

"Ought to. I've had time to practice."

Draco's eyes narrowed. He grinned suddenly, his expression positively catlike. "Then _you've_ been doing something for me, too."

* * *

The third time Harry went to Draco's flat, it was still early in the evening, a week and a half after his arrival in London. As he was coming off the lift on Draco's floor, he heard a door slam down the hall. Quick footsteps, then an attractive man about his age with curly brown hair rounded the corner. Harry barely stepped out of his way in time; the man barreled right past him into the lift. He had a bag slung over his shoulder, and a stony look on his face. Pinched and impatient. Harry stopped and watched him until the door closed, then turned the corner to Draco's flat. The lift dinged once behind him.

Draco's door was open and he was standing in the hall, one hand on the doorjamb. Harry had an instant to see the solemn look on Draco's face before his expression flickered into something unrecognizable. Harry blinked and Draco's face was empty again.

Harry slowed down for a fraction of a second, then continued down the hall.

Draco stood in his doorway watching his approach, and Harry had time to take in his flushed face and mussed clothing. His tie was loose around his neck, shirt opened up to the middle of his chest. He stood back to let Harry into the flat.

Harry wasn't sure if it bothered him or not. Or if it should. It just _was_. He'd never expected any sort of exclusivity. In fact, he would have been surprised to find it from Draco Malfoy in their… whatever it was they had. But one and then the other in the same night… Harry did not like the idea of being "the other". And when he considered the flip side, he didn't really like the idea of being the "one" either. But it wasn't his business.

Draco said nothing other than a quiet greeting, and Harry stood in the dimly lit entrance hallway to Draco's flat and waited. The blond paced about his living room for a moment, straightening a chair, adjusting the position of a book on the coffee table, running a hand through his tousled hair. Harry thought maybe the hand was shaking, but Draco's motions were too quick to be sure. Suddenly, Draco turned to face him and took a breath. He strode over and grabbed Harry's hand, and without a word pulled him down the hall into the bedroom. Once there, he shut the door and lifted Harry's t-shirt over his head, undid his belt buckle in silence, and backed them toward the bed.

"Who was that man?" Harry asked quietly.

Draco shook his head, pursing his lips. "Old friend," he muttered, falling backward and pulling Harry down on top of him.

Then Draco said something that in all their sexual escapades together, he had never once even mentioned:

"Harry, I want you to top."

Harry blinked. "What?"

Draco pulled Harry's wand free of his trouser pocket and cast the protection spell on himself, then tossed the wand aside. He pulled Harry's clothing off before starting in on his own. Harry relieved him of the task, removing Draco's shirt, tie, and trousers in puzzled silence. Draco's face had a determined set to it, a resigned look around the edges. Harry let Draco guide his hands down to his thighs, over his buttocks. The blond took a deep breath and stared up expectantly. Harry reached out and found his wand where it had landed on the bedclothes. He performed the preparation spell on Draco, and the other man sighed and shut his eyes.

Gently, Harry pushed into his body. Draco shifted once, then subsided. Harry looked down at him, waiting for him to get used to the intrusion. "Draco."

"What?"

"Why are you—"

But Draco turned his head to the side. His fingers tightened on Harry's back. "Just shut up, Potter. I don't want to talk tonight."

~~

Afterward, Harry slipped into sleep almost immediately, an uneasy doze full of innate, dreamy reminders that he shouldn't be sleeping. When he woke again in the darkness of some hour he wasn't sure of, he roused himself and sat up.

"I'd better go," he whispered, almost too softly to hear himself.

Draco answered without even moving his arm from where it rested over his eyes. His voice was clearer than Harry expected. "What are you going to do, Apparate into Granger's living room in the middle of the night and scare her to death? Just go to sleep."

Harry lay back down and listened to Draco's breathing. It never quite reached the slow steadiness of sleep before Harry dropped off again.

* * *

The very next night, Harry went back to Draco's. The blond opened the door and immediately frowned. "What?"

"Hello to you, too." Harry stepped inside the flat and brushed past his host. Draco said nothing. Harry thought he heard a small sigh, and then Draco was padding past him on bare feet into the kitchen.

"Tea?"

"Please."

Draco picked up his wand from the table, flicked it, and in a moment Harry had a mug of Earl Grey sitting in front of him.

"Cheers."

Draco waved his hand dismissively and sprawled in a chair across the table from Harry. He began fiddling with the cuff of his shirt sleeve, worrying it between two fingers. Harry cupped his hands around his mug and watched, but Draco's eyes never really met his. Almost. It was close. He had the feeling Draco was looking past him, though.

"Did you know this was my favorite tea?"

Draco's shoulders twitched and he gave an exasperated sigh. He shook his head, finally focusing on Harry. "Only kind I have in my flat, Potter."

Harry tapped the side of his mug for a few moments. Draco's body looked tense, but he seemed content to just sit there. Harry licked his lips, fidgeting. "So… how was your day?"

Draco looked up, an incredulous expression on his face. "That the best you can come up with? Fuck."

He stood with a jerk and grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him up from his seat. Harry barely managed to avoid knocking into the table. Draco led him into the bedroom, and sat down on the bed. He began unbuttoning his shirt swiftly. Harry sat next to him.

This time the smirk was evident when Draco looked at him. "Seems we need a more familiar setting to talk in."

Harry smiled before he could stop himself. Draco's voice was dry; that was a good sign. He pulled his own clothing off, but then Draco was pushing him down on his back. Harry blinked in surprise. Even without touching him he could feel the tension in the other man's body. Draco's fingers were pressing a little too hard, his eyes darting a little too fast. His hands… were quivering.

Harry grabbed the pale arms holding him, gripping with his fingers until Draco's movements paused. He pushed Draco off him, over onto his stomach. "Lie down."

Harry crawled up and straddled the other man's thighs, and began to knead Draco's back with his thumbs. The muscles under his hands stiffened even more.

"What?" the blond said, his voice clipped. He shot a frigid look over his shoulder at Harry. "You think because you topped me once, you can just go on and do it again?"

Harry stilled, frowning. Draco pushed himself up, trying to flip Harry off. It shook Harry from his stupor, and he pressed Draco firmly back onto the mattress. "Hold still, will you?"

Draco shook his head but Harry was having none of it. He used his weight to hold Draco down and continued his massage. The blond refused to relax. His back remained taut, muscles pulled tight. Harry sighed. "Just relax. This is all I'm doing."

Draco sniffed. "For now."

Harry dug his fingers extra hard into a knotted muscle and Draco squirmed beneath him. "I'm quite comfortable with bottoming," Harry murmured.

Draco hunched his shoulders suddenly, but Harry wasn't sure if his words or his hands had caused the movement. Draco's voice was weary, but it still bit sharply.

"Get a lot of practice, Potter?"

Harry stopped his massage altogether, taken aback by the spitefulness in Draco's voice. He was beginning to get annoyed. "You should know, Malfoy," he shot back.

Draco grunted, not looking at him. "Well, I don't think I do. Maybe you should just tell me."

Harry had not planned to bring too much into the room this time. It was already charged with sparking emotions. But Draco's words struck deeper than expected, and suddenly all Harry could think about were the places Draco went on the nights Harry didn't drop by, and the other man who seemed to be frequenting Draco's flat. Where Draco might have been planning on going this night. "Yes. I get my share of bottoming practice, Malfoy."

Draco didn't respond immediately. From what Harry could see of his profile, his face was stony, eyes fixed somewhere to his left. But Harry didn't really want to look at Draco's face right then. He was still smarting from his own thoughts.

Abruptly, Draco shrugged and relaxed under him. Harry looked down. The other man was smirking again. "Glad to hear it, Potter. I'd hate to think you were getting bored in London."

Harry got off of Draco and grabbed his shoulder, flipping him over onto his back. "Did you just decide today was the day to be a royal arse?"

Draco sneered at him and raised his hands in a half-shrug. "Just being me. Surely _you_ know that by now."

He was right. Harry did know. His first thought was that this side of Draco had been kept under wraps for the duration of his trip thus far, and he didn't like its reappearance. Then again, wasn't this part of Draco always present? Harry could find his way around it often enough, riding along with the blond's sarcasm and carefree humor. But it _was_ always there, underneath. Harry was beginning to realize it drove almost every comment of Draco's, to whatever end he intended.

Harry gave an exaggerated sigh and took Draco's chin between his fingers. He bent low over the blond. "Talk to me. You seem to enjoy that when we start this."

"Start what?"

Harry leaned down and kissed Draco on the mouth, slowly. Draco's lips parted and Harry dipped into his mouth with his tongue, tasting the familiar tang of alcohol. It was slight, but present, and for a moment Harry wondered. Draco sighed softly through his nose and Harry felt the man's tongue caress his tentatively. Harry moved his hand from Draco's chest and touched his cheek, stroking tenderly through his hair.

Suddenly the tongue touching his pulled back. Draco broke the kiss and edged over, rolling onto his side away from Harry. "Oh, stop it. I'm not in the mood for that."

Harry sat up, frowning. "What are you in the mood for then?"

Draco shrugged. "Hard. Fast. Instant gratification." He turned quickly and looked Harry right in the eye.

Harry studied his face, the cool stare and the careful blankness underneath. Then he snorted and flopped back on the bed, arms spread. "I think I can do that for you. What did you have in mind?"

At last, Draco smiled, a real smile. He rolled until he was leaning over Harry. His hair drifted into his face and Harry wanted to brush it back. "How are you with blow jobs?"

Harry snickered. "I don't want to brag, but I've been told I'm damn good at them."

A shadow flickered over Draco's face for an instant, and then was gone. He quirked an eyebrow at Harry. "Then by all means, Potter. Prove it."

Harry shook his head and pulled himself up. He rose from the bed. Draco frowned and sat up. "Potter."

Harry stretched, worked his jaw with one hand, then held that hand out to Draco. "Jumpy, aren't you? Don't worry. I'm just not about to do it on the bed."

Draco's eyes flicked to the proffered hand, then back to Harry's face. He wrinkled his nose. "As I recall, you don't usually have much of a problem with my bed."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I gave you the chance to lie down and relax. You didn't want to. Now the way I see it, for someone who wants instant gratification you aren't moving very fast."

Draco glared at him and grabbed his outstretched hand, allowing himself to be tugged off the bed. Harry backed him into the nearest wall and knelt between his legs. Draco kept admirably silent while Harry teased him with his lips and tongue and breath. The first thing the blond actually said whooshed out in a rush of air when Harry finally took him into his mouth. "Fuck, you _are_ good at this."

Harry pulled back and grinned up at him, relishing the immediate annoyance on Draco's face. "Draco. I've barely touched you."

"Anyone who can bring me that close to coming just by licking and blowing around the area is good at this." Draco closed his eyes and pressed on the top of Harry's head, urging him downward. Harry obliged, grinning to himself. Draco's fingers remained curled in his hair, tensing and releasing as Harry continued.

"You know, there are so many things a person can do with his or her tong— _Fuck_." Draco hissed suddenly and pulled at Harry's hair. "Where the hell did you learn that one?"

Harry released him again and looked up. "Do you really want to know?"

Draco met his eyes briefly, then shook his head and leaned back, looking at the ceiling. "No. Just… keep going."

Harry went back to what he'd been doing. He didn't really like giving blow jobs usually, but this felt different for some reason. Perhaps it was the softness of the skin at Draco's hips. The building shiver of his muscles. Maybe the sudden clenching of the long fingers in his hair. He released him again and nuzzled Draco's hip, squeezing with one hand. "Draco… you're about to come, aren't you?"

"If you say one more word, Potter, I swear I will kick you out of this flat in all your nakedness."

Harry massaged the base of Draco's erection with his thumbs and watched, transfixed, as the man shuddered uncontrollably. "Don't come yet."

"Potter, do you ever shut up?"

Harry grinned. "Not during sex. The conversation's too good."

He got a light smack to the shoulder.

* * *

Harry was drinking again. Not too much, or at least not what he considered to be too much. Hermione would have said differently and stamped on his behavior in an instant. But then, he was here to escape Hermione anyway. He didn't want to hear her _Where have you been_ s, which were ridiculous anyway considering she knew where he went on the nights he wasn't on her couch. She wanted him happy, she said, but there were lines to be drawn. And it made Harry angry how quickly she changed her tune, how _Yes-he's-changed-isn't-that-lovely_ she was until the light of day showed her that her couch hadn't been slept on the previous night. She frowned then, crossed her arms, asked why he was letting himself be taken advantage of yet again. _Seventh year, Harry. And now._

Up until then Harry hadn't seen it that way, concerning the past or the present. Certainly not seventh year. But with a glass and a half of stout in him at bloody lunchtime, he was wondering _why_ he'd never seen it that way.

"Potter."

Harry looked up and found Draco standing there, the fingers of one hand resting on the tabletop. The blond gave him a faint smirk. "So you do eat like a normal person."

It was much easier to forget about Hermione with Draco standing there in what was very nearly a Muggle business suit. A well-fitted one, too. Harry gestured for him to sit.

Draco set the menu aside without even glancing at it and ordered a samosa platter. "I'd no idea you liked Indian food."

Harry shrugged. "Sometimes I need a little spice."

"Yes, I'm beginning to get that idea." Draco leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. "But I don't think I'm quite used to seeing you in the daytime. How _do_ you spend your days anyway, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm acting the tourist. I think I've been in the company of more Americans than Brits these last few weeks."

Draco laughed. "It's underrated, the tourist affliction. A lot of people who live here don't go to all the poster sites. Take the Tate. There are gorgeous exhibits there on a day to day basis, one right now in fact, on artwork of the theological persuasion. But it's being missed by the majority of the population here, and raved about all across America to those who will probably never get the chance to see it."

The conversation was comfortable, and Harry found he was surprised at the ease with which they talked in daylight. When the bill came, Draco slipped it from under Harry's fingertips. "I've got it. No need for your bank account to go through unnecessary death throes."

For some reason, Harry's complacency deserted him. His throat dried and he took a swig of his nearly forgotten stout. Hermione's voice began beating through his brain, shrill and unavoidable. Before he could think, the words grated from his throat out into the open.

"You don't have to pay to get me into your bed, Malfoy."

Draco met his eyes with a slow upward sweep of his head. His body stiffened in some indefinable way, and his gaze became hard. "I thought I was paying for your lunch," he said in a flat tone.

His gaze flicked to Harry's two empty glasses. "For your drinks as well." His voice had gone cold, mocking. "And whatever or whomever you are using them to deal with."

With a sigh, Draco stood. "You don't have to come over later it you don't want to. I'm pretty tied up tonight anyway."

He tossed a wad of Muggle notes onto the table and left the restaurant. Harry sat still for a long moment, then sighed, rubbing his forehead. He thumbed through the notes and found they covered the entire meal.

Cursing, Harry left the restaurant.

All afternoon he mulled over whether or not to go to Draco's. In the end, he didn't want to resign himself to a night of Hermione's disapproving looks in the setting of her perfectly domestic marriage. On top of that, he felt there was some way he should apologize for what he'd said, but he couldn't think of an easy way to do it. He ended up in front of Draco's door around ten, skittish about seeing a possibly angry Draco.

Harry rapped on the door. There was no answer. It took him several minutes to fully realize that Draco wasn't home. He blinked and stared at the closed door, then turned around, suddenly at a loss.

Harry thought about going back to Hermione's, or to some pub, but it all seemed so complicated. And his mind was picking at where Draco might be, muddling things further, because really, Harry hadn't had any reason to think Draco would be home tonight. The man had as much as said he wouldn't be. But Harry'd thought… He shook his head and slouched down against the wall next to the door, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and trying to think.

The only real answer he managed to come up with was that it was stupid to wait around outside Draco Malfoy's flat all night like some homeless bum. Even though - Harry grimaced - that's what he was.

Just as he was getting to his feet, Harry heard a sharp _crack_ behind him, a sound that after five years he hadn't really expected to hear again. He turned in time to see Draco Malfoy slump sideways into the wall, leaning against it with his hand out as a brace.

Harry blinked. "Draco?"

Draco looked up, gaze unfocused. His eyes widened. "Harry. What're you doing here?"

Draco was dressed in black trousers and a tight matching shirt. His hair was mussed, skin flushed. The blond tried to right himself, but his hand slipped and he nearly toppled over. Harry reached him in a few seconds, and when he did, he could smell how drunk Draco was. A familiar smell. It stopped him for a moment. It was only ten, and Draco was completely smashed already. Harry wound one arm around the other man's waist and eased him off the wall.

"You shouldn't be Apparating when you're like this. Could've splinched yourself."

Draco shook his head. "You weren't supposed to come tonight." His voice slurred heavily, but his dismay was unmistakable. "If I'd known, I wouldn't have—"

He stopped and sighed heavily. "But it wouldn't fucking matter, would it?"

It was right then that Harry realized where Draco had been. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he did. Dancing. Clubbing. Whatever he wanted to call it. And the man had drunk himself into complete intoxication before midnight. Other images of what Draco might have just returned from doing filled Harry's head. He could suddenly smell sweat on Draco's skin, and it may or may not have been his own.

It wasn't supposed to, but it stung for one incongruous moment. And then Harry pushed the thought out.

"Can you open your door?"

Draco fumbled with his wand and flicked it at the door. It swung open with a soft squeal. Harry looked up and down the hallway, but there was no one in sight. He helped Draco into the flat. By the time he managed to get them both inside and shut the door, Draco was looking up at him, squinting alcohol-clouded eyes.

"You might want to go somewhere else tonight if you want—" Draco stopped.

Harry stared at him, then shook his head, frowning. He pulled Draco down the hall into his bedroom. The blond released his hold on Harry and slumped down on the bed.

"You shouldn't be here."

Harry straightened and looked at Draco more carefully. "Well, I am."

Draco eyed him, then laughed shortly. He grabbed Harry's hand and tugged him down. His grip was not strong at all, but Harry went along with it, urged on by the insistence of Draco's fingers. Draco brought Harry's face to his and kissed him, a fast, almost-too-hard plunge of tongue. His mouth tasted heavily of alcohol. Draco broke the kiss long enough to whisper against Harry's lips in a pleading tone, "Stay, give me at least until I pass out before you go elsewhere?" Then he was flush against Harry's body, wiry and willing, and Harry's head swam as if he were the drunk one.

Abruptly Draco's hands released him and he pulled away. His eyes met Harry's, then he turned his head toward the far wall. His expression looked more despondent than Harry had ever seen.

"I hate this, Potter. I was going out tonight. Do you know?"

Harry couldn't answer. Draco fell onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He swallowed visibly. "I can see why you drink over this, Harry," he murmured.

Harry's insides felt knotted. He leaned over Draco. "You shouldn't drink."

Draco's only answer was to shake his head. He began to inch up on the bed. Harry sat for a moment just watching him, then crawled forward and helped Draco lie down on the pillows. Grey eyes gleamed up at him.

"I wish I'd known. Don't know why you're here."

Harry fixed his gaze on the headboard, searching for something to say. Draco's words brought back his similar ones out in the hallway.

 _If I'd known, I wouldn't have—_

Wouldn't have what? Gotten drunk? Fucked another man? He would have come back to Harry instead. What was he, Draco's fucking toy? But it was Harry himself who had phrased it like that over lunch, so what had he been expecting, really? Harry fumed, then was suddenly calm, then fuming again. Because what did it matter? He knew Draco. Or maybe he didn't and _that_ was the whole point. Harry liked not knowing. Not knowing left plenty of room to correct errors.

But it did matter to him. Whatever the reason.

When he looked down again, Draco had passed out, lips parted, hair drifting over his forehead. Harry frowned, then reached up, brushing the hair out of the man's eyes. For a long moment he considered just lying there next to Draco.

 _Stay._

He wanted to.

In the end, Harry rose from the bed, took Draco's shoes off his feet, and wrapped the covers around him. Then he went out to sleep on Draco's couch.

He'd thought it might be a great deal more comfortable, more welcoming than Hermione's couch. But tonight he couldn't concentrate at all.

* * *

Harry left the next morning before Draco awoke. When he finally saw him again two days later, Draco said nothing about that night. He had so thoroughly returned to his normal behavior that Harry began to think Draco did not even remember it.

The usual resumed with such regularity that Harry wondered at his own memory. When he showed up at Draco's door, it was always to find the man at home, silently letting him in and leading him to the bedroom. Draco talked during sex again, but the things Harry really wanted to know, what he'd said that night, he could never find a way to ask. Draco's discussions were too blissful, too full of sarcasm to allow for such an odd topic. Harry didn't really know what he wanted to say anyway.

But he was coming to some sort of conclusion about it, made even more prominent with every word Draco spoke. It wasn't until one night when Draco answered the door in nothing but his trousers that Harry figured it out.

They didn't even make it into the bedroom; Draco tugged him onto the couch into his lap within three seconds of his arrival.

Draco's hands went immediately to Harry's belt, pulling it loose with swift fingers. "Do you have somewhere to be?"

Harry shrugged. He freed Draco’s own belt from his trousers, dropping it to the floor behind him. "Nothing that can't wait."

Draco looked at him, then closed his eyes. His fingers slid under the waistband of Harry's jeans and clutched at the tops of his thighs. "Just give me a second, and you can be on your merry way."

Harry lipped Draco's jaw, and pulled back. The man's hands were sliding up under his shirt, over his chest. "You look tired. Haven't been keeping you up, have I?"

Draco rolled his eyes. Harry thought he was grimacing. "Not everything's about you, Potter."

His mouth was on Harry's before he could respond, hands tangled in his hair. Draco rolled his hips upward and sucked at Harry's lower lip, forcing a deep kiss. He gave in completely; it was too hard not to. And that was when Harry considered that his own avoidance tactics might be a little different than Draco's.

The next week taught Harry that, sex conversations or not, being unwilling to say what he was thinking was beginning to tell on him. He spent his nights in Draco's bed staring at the ceiling after the other man had fallen asleep, and his nights when he wasn't with Draco more annoyed than he liked to admit. At first he blamed the other man, but in the end it came down to the fact that, whatever Draco had in mind, it apparently wasn't what Harry himself wanted. He knew the question he wanted to ask, and regardless of whether it made or broke the situation, Harry couldn't sleep with it still sitting on his tongue, in Draco's bed with the blond's arm thrown across his chest or not.

All he needed was the right time to voice the question.

A month after his return to London, his opportunity appeared before him with surprising clarity. It was the second time Draco offered to bottom, and kneeling on the bed behind Draco, easing the man down over his length, Harry found he was unwilling to keep quiet any longer. He moved them both slowly, kissing the pale skin of Draco's back, his hands gripping the slender hips against his.

"Would you be okay with making this a little more permanent?"

Draco's hand came back over their heads and cupped the nape of Harry's neck. He squeezed at a particularly deep thrust. "Meaning?"

"Well, I don't know about you," Harry said, moving his mouth to Draco's shoulder and sucking at the straining skin there. "But I enjoy these little visits of ours."

"Prat," Draco gasped. He arched just a little, sucking in a breath. "What the hell do you mean you don't know if I enjoy this?"

Harry smiled faintly and grabbed Draco's hips, adjusting the angle. When he thrust in again, he let out a sigh and closed his eyes at the change in pressure. "I'm pretty sure you do."

Draco nodded. Harry ran one hand across the other man's forehead, gently pulling sweaty bangs away. "I guess it would depend on how much you enjoy it."

"Up a little?" Draco asked. Harry obliged by rising on his knees and pulling Draco up with him. One thrust in the new position and Draco's head fell back on Harry's shoulder.

"Just where are you going with this?" Draco asked in a startlingly weak voice.

Harry studied Draco's body over his shoulder. The man was extremely tense, skin rippling into goosebumps. Harry snaked his hand over Draco's stomach, down toward his erection. "You want to come?"

"Is this conversation over?" Draco breathed. Harry shook his head.

"No."

"Then leave that alone." Draco smacked Harry's hand away from his erection, then threaded their fingers and pulled the back of his hand to his lips. His inner muscles clenched down on Harry's length and Harry gripped Draco tighter, shuddering.

"I just don't know if it's right. Asking you this right now, I mean. Your judgment might be impaired."

Draco snorted and pressed down into Harry's lap. "Says the arse who used to drown me in liquor so he could get into my pants on a school night."

Harry thrust up and worked his hips in a wide arc, making Draco moan. "You never complained."

"And I'm still not complaining." Draco rotated his own hips. He turned his head and caught the corner of Harry's mouth in a wet kiss. "But you'd better— mmm, hurry back to the subject. Contrary to popular belief, I can't go forever."

"Popular belief is something of an issue, actually." Harry slowed his movements to deep drawn out thrusts. Draco let out a soft mewl and wriggled his hips against the new rhythm.

"What _is_ the question, Potter? For fuck's sake." His voice was desperate.

"I want to make this a daily occurrence." Harry took a deep breath. "Every night, not just twice a week."

"You know, I might need to just sleep some nights," Draco murmured breathlessly.

"I want to… be there. Those nights."

Harry thought Draco actually went rigid for an instant, but then the blond bent forward and reached behind him, grabbing Harry's hips with both hands.

"You sure that fits your busy schedule?" The question was incredibly soft. Harry had to turn the words over in his head once to make sense of them.

"I think we could both do with a schedule change in that department," he answered, panting.

Draco turned away and his hands on Harry's hips tightened once, and relaxed. Harry had to strain to hear him, his voice was so low. "That won't be hard at least. I haven't been with anyone else for a month."

Harry froze for a split second. Then he wove his fingers through Draco's hair and pulled his face around. Draco's mouth was open and Harry plundered it, yearning for something he couldn't figure out. His chest hurt.

"What was that for," Draco offered weakly. Harry slid his hand over Draco's belly, fingers drifting through the curling hair there, dipping into his navel. Draco pressed back against him and covered Harry's hand with his own. Their fingers interlocked.

"You're coming. Right now." Harry gripped Draco's length with a sudden motion.

The other man's hand clenched around his, fingers pressing into his knuckles. Draco's voice struggled from him, coming and going. "You don't… waste any time… do you?"

Harry sucked on the back of Draco's neck and whispered against his skin. He wasn't sure if it was audible. "Already wasted too much time."

He curled his arm around Draco's chest and held him tightly to his own body. He could feel Draco's muscles tightening, straining. Harry thrust into him hard, fast, quickening the pace. Draco arched against his hold and clawed at his arm, digging fingernails into his skin. Harry stroked upward on Draco's length, thrusting into his body and rolling his hips. But it was when his tongue met Draco's throat just after that he finally felt the shudder ripple up through the blond's body. Draco moaned, almost a cry, and Harry's body responded fervently, his orgasm rising through him so fast he couldn't breathe. Draco squeezed his arm so hard it hurt, and then came.

Harry was caught for one glorious second in the agonizing sensation of Draco coming around him before his own orgasm tore through him and wiped it away. He gasped for air, clinging to the body against his. Draco was saying something, too breathless and muddled to understand, and Harry shuddered through both their climaxes seeing white.

Finally the pounding in his ears quieted and Harry shivered convulsively. Draco collapsed back against him, breathing deeply. His fingers trailed lazily over Harry's head, down his throat, touching his chest, then falling to Draco's own chest and drifting down to where Harry's hand was, still closed around his length.

A whisper, "Harry."

Slowly, Harry eased himself free of Draco's body. The man dropped forward, then turned and collapsed onto his back on the bed, drawing his legs up. Harry crawled between them and lowered himself onto Draco's sweaty body. He could hear the man's heartbeat pulsing in his ear, and he rubbed slow circles over Draco's chest with one hand, listening to the rapid _thump-thump._

"So." Draco's voice was hoarse. Harry heard him lick his lips. He nodded, still caressing Draco's skin.

"So."

Draco's hand suddenly cupped his face, pulling his head up. Harry raised himself on one elbow and found Draco staring at him from beneath lowered eyebrows.

"Get this straight, Potter. I'm not fucking sharing you anymore, either."

Harry looked him right in the eye. "You haven't been sharing me. Ever."

Draco frowned. He was still breathing rapidly. "But you said. When I asked."

"My last partner was months ago."

Draco looked at him for such a long moment that Harry had to blink. The blond's flushed face grew hard. "You lied."

Harry shook his head lightly. "You assumed. I just let you."

"Why?" Genuine confusion, and hurt. Harry sighed.

"Your 'old friend' nearly ran me over leaving your flat that second week."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Then _you_ assumed."

"Oh, and you did everything you could to dissuade me of that idea, did you?"

Draco stared at him, then smirked and shook his head. "I like you jealous. You top me when you're jealous."

Now it was Harry's turn to be confused. He straightened and squinted at Draco. "I top you because you let me."

"And I let you because I want it."

It was odd: Draco's face was more passive than Harry had ever seen, while Harry himself was still all mixed up. He tried to find his answers in the slate-colored flecks of the other man's eyes. "Do you like it?"

Draco shrugged. "Not particularly. I can barely get off in any sane amount of time in that position."

Harry searched his face. "You seemed to be doing fine with me."

Draco propped himself up and touched Harry's face, fixing him with an intent stare. He raised his eyebrows. "Yes. With you."

Harry wet his lips, trying to find something to say. In the end he just kissed Draco. It took him several breathless minutes to search out the blond's entire mouth, and when he pulled away, Draco was hard again.

Harry glanced down and eyed his erection. "Bloody hell, Draco."

Draco bucked his hips lightly against Harry's, making him jump. "If you don't want it, don't kiss me like that again."

Harry kissed him like that again. Draco broke away gasping for air. "Fuck, Harry."

"I really don't think that's descriptive enough. I get a general idea, but I'm not quite certain what you want me to do."

Draco clapped a hand over Harry's mouth. "Less talk. More sex _and_ talk. And I don't care who fucks whom."

Harry flipped over and tugged Draco on top of him, fondling between the blond's legs. "You're fucking me. Like we used to. Get on with it."

Draco settled himself on top of Harry, but did not move immediately. He reached up to brush a hand through Harry's hair. "And just think," he said. "You used to be so virginal."

Harry cocked an eyebrow at him. "Was I."

Draco smirked. He finally rose up and tucked his hands under Harry's knees, bending his legs and moving between them. Harry shifted and pulled his legs up, waiting, but Draco didn't reach for either his or Harry's wand. Instead he began to massage the muscles around Harry's anus with one hand. Harry watched him quietly, and Draco watched him right back.

"Draco?"

"Yes."

" _Was_ that other night the first time you'd ever bottomed?"

Draco took a cleansing breath through his nose and smirked, eyes sparkling. "As much as I hate to see you disappointed, Harry, unfortunately you have not managed to devirginize me in any way." He grinned and then looked suddenly thoughtful. "Well. Perhaps in one way."

Harry smiled back. "And what way's that?"

Draco bent and laid a tender kiss to Harry's breastbone. He breathed deeply again. "Not tonight. But maybe I'll tell you sometime."

"Another meaningful conversation."

Draco looked up at him. "No. Just a word. Most likely, it'll come when I do."

Harry thought he could guess. But he had a feeling he didn't need to.

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> Author commentary on this fic here: http://rurounihime.livejournal.com/58651.html


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